Edwina’s face turned so red I thought she might explode. “I will have a word with my friend the Lord Lieutenant of Kent,” she said. “He may feel that Scotland Yard should be called in. I am not sure that the Kentish constabulary is equipped to handle a case of this magnitude.”

The chief inspector’s face had also turned red, as if he was using all his willpower not to say something he’d regret later. “In my opinion, madam, there isn’t much difference between the murder of a hooligan on the streets of London and the murder of a duke on a big estate. They all come down to the same basic human emotions—jealousy, fear, greed and revenge. So don’t worry: I am more than equipped to handle your case. I will now question this young lady and then, hopefully, our police surgeon and photographer will have shown up with the van, and we can take a look at the body.”

“Now, miss.” He turned back to me. “Let’s get the timing right on this. At what time did you discover the body?”

I chose to overlook that he’d called me “miss.” I thought that Edwina had probably annoyed him enough for both of us—and a policeman who is annoyed can make life dashed unpleasant.

“I’m not sure of the exact time,” I said. “It must have been around nine forty-five or maybe even ten o’clock.”

“And how long before this had the duke left to go and inspect his theater site?”

“I didn’t see him go, but I understand from the butler that it must have been a good while. Possibly as early as eight o’clock.”

“Did nobody think that was a long time to be gone looking at the landscape in this kind of weather?”

Edwina cleared her throat. “In a household the size of this one, Inspector, one’s movements are not closely observed. My son only chose to make us conversant with his activities when it suited him. He sometimes failed to mention that he was going up to town, which Cook found most irritating.”

“So he was seen going out at eight o’clock, was he?”

“I believe the footman Frederick asked if he wanted an umbrella as it looked like rain,” I replied. “But you should ask Frederick yourself.”

The policeman nodded. “So let’s get back to you. A man arrives, says he is the architect and asks to be taken down to meet the duke at the theater site. That’s correct, miss?”

“Absolutely, Inspector,” I said.

“It’s chief inspector,” he said.

“Sorry. So it is.” I met his gaze, and saw that he got my point.

“And I take it that it was already raining by that time?” he asked.